Not the Boss of Me
by Tracy
Summary: A peek into the life of young Daniel Jackson in a foster home


Not the Boss of Me

by Tracy LeCates

Edward Jenkins pulled into the driveway of the modest Cape Cod and maneuvered the station wagon into the open garage. Relieving himself of his suit jacket as soon as he departed the air-conditioned interior of the vehicle, he loosened his tie and breathed a sigh of relief at having the week finally over. 

As he exited and pulled the door down behind him, a sound caught his attention and redirected his steps around the side of the house. Peering around the corner, his suspicions were confirmed. "Hi, Daniel," he called out in greeting to his foster son. 

The young boy who knelt in the dirt under the family room window ceased his digging and looked up. "Hi, Mr. Jenkins." 

"Whatcha doing, there?" Edward asked as he approached, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and offering the boy a smile.

The child eyed him curiously, one finger rising to his face to push the new eyeglasses back into place. "Digging," he answered simply. 

Edward rocked back on his heels, the amusement on his face growing. "Okay, Daniel. Have fun digging, but don't wander off, all right? I'm sure dinner will be on the table in a little while."

"You're not the boss of me," he stated, defiance in his blue eyes. 

"Aren't you getting hungry?" the man asked gently, receiving only a slightly less defiant glance in answer. "If you miss dinner it'll be a long time until breakfast," he prodded. He could see the internal struggle going on behind those azure eyes and turned away, heading back for his original destination of the front door. "You decide, Daniel." The sound of the small trowel digging into the dirt followed him as he walked away.

"Looks like you're going to have to buy more flowers, Amy," Edward chuckled as he walked into the kitchen and greeted his wife with a kiss. "We appear to be getting another flowerbed dug under the family room windows."

The middle-aged brunette laughed softly as she turned back to the counter and dipped another piece of chicken into the batter. "He does love to dig. I found that if I get up early enough and head him off I can usually con him into doing his digging somewhere I wanted to put flowers or a bush."

"Good God, Amy," Edward laughed, staring at her in mock horror. "What's wrong with you? Point him to the middle of the backyard tomorrow! Think of how much money we can save putting in that swimming pool by letting him do the excavation!"

"Stop that!" Amy laughed, swatting her husband. "He's a sweet little boy. He's just… having a tough adjustment period, that's all."

"He is a good kid," he agreed, his smile turning more fond. "Smart too. I think this summer vacation is tough on him, being away from school. Not that it's the other kids he misses," he sighed, moving to the cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses.

"The social worker told us he had trouble relating to kids his own age," Amy reminded him. "We'll just have to try encouraging his social skills a little more - without being 'the boss of him'," she added as an afterthought.

Edward chuckled as he poured a glass of white wine for himself and one for his wife. "He's a stubborn little thing, all right," he agreed. "He's just bound and determined not to like us, no matter what. He's been here for three weeks and he's still tip-toeing around. You know, maybe I should teach him to box or something. With those new glasses, his love of learning and his habit of tripping over his own feet, he's going to be a punching bag for other kids in school."

Daniel heard the sound of soft laughter, and the good smells of dinner cooking met his nose as he let himself in the back door. He belatedly brushed at the sandy dirt and darker mud on his jeans. He felt the glasses sliding down his nose again and pushed them back up as he wandered to the kitchen door and looked in. His stomach growled, though he kept the expression on his face carefully controlled in the guise of disinterest. 

The woman looked over at him with a smile as she plucked another piece of fried chicken out of the pan and set it on a large platter. "Hi, Daniel. Dinner's just about done. Go on and wash up."

Defiance returned to his countenance. "You're not the boss of me," he declared, watching the expressions of the two adults. He'd learned already in his young life that nothing was permanent. He'd most likely have moved on from this place before he even really got to know to way to the bathroom in the dark. 

"Daniel," Amy said softly, "have you ever gotten dirt in your mouth?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. 

Daniel nodded after a moment, remembering a picnic lunch he'd shared once with his parents, and the gritty crunch of dirt after biting into a sandwich he'd laid down on a blanket. His nose wrinkled in an unconscious imitation of Amy Jenkin's.

"Well, if you don't wash your hands, you'll wind up with extra crunchy fried chicken, now, won't you?"

Carefully screwing up his face into defiance in the face of gentle reason, he turned and stalked off to the bathroom to wash the dirt from his hands. "…not the boss of me," he mumbled for effect.

Daniel studied each of the chicken bones before adding them to the small pile on his plate as he waited to be excused from the table. 

"Daniel, tomorrow's Saturday and I don't have to work," Edward began. "Is there anything you'd like to do?"

The boy shrugged, attempting to convey his disinterest. 

"How about the zoo?" Amy offered. "Would you like to go to the zoo?"

Enthusiasm shone brightly in his blue eyes, though the expression on his face never changed. "If you were already going to the zoo I guess I could go too," he replied casually. 

Edward shot his wife an amused glance. "We were going to go to the zoo anyway."

Daniel couldn't stop the hint of a smile he felt tugging at his lips. "Okay, then I may as well go with you. May I be excused, please?"

"Yes, you may," Amy answered, watching as he dumped the chicken bones in the trash and brought his plate to the sink before running out of the room. The sound of his feet pounding up the stairs to his room elicited a chuckle from the man seated in the kitchen. 

"It always makes me nervous when that kid runs," he said, smiling and shaking his head as his wife began to clear the table. "He's an accident waiting to happen."

Daniel yawned, removing his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. He stared out his bedroom window, gazing up at the stars above, wondering how far away they really were, and what the people who lived there must be like. He heard the door open behind him and saw Amy Jenkins' reflection in the pane of glass before him, but didn't turn. 

"Bedtime, Daniel. Time to pick up your toys, say your prayers, and then lights out," she said softly, moving to turn down the covers for him.

He turned from his silent musings and started towards the bed.

"Toys off the floor first," she gently reminded him, pointing at the Leggo city he'd half constructed and the G.I. Joe doll who sat in the middle of it. 

"You're not the boss of me," he reminded her sullenly, standing his ground. 

"Honey, if you get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom you're going to step on those Leggos and hurt your feet. Not to mention that you'll break your toys and then you won't have anything to play with," the woman reasoned.

Hating every ounce of sense in her words, Daniel knelt down on the floor and carefully placed his 'city' into the large wooden toychest. Looking down into the box at the doll in military uniform, he smiled a weary smile. "Night, Jack," he whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Daniel grasped the edges of the open toychest and got to his feet, accidentally bumping the box with his knee, bringing the lid down with a *WHUMP*, onto his fingers. "OWWWW!!!" he howled, jerking his hands out of the box.

"Danny? Come here, let me see your fingers," Amy said, quickly drawing him to her as she sat on the bed. Her hand gently grasped his wrist as she examined his small hands. "Can you bend your fingers?"

He felt the tears burning his eyes and his chin begin to quiver as he flexed his fingers. Determined as he was not to cry in front of this woman, he couldn't stop the fat droplets from rolling down his cheeks and blurring his already obscured vision. 

"You're okay, Sweetheart," she said, giving him a small smile. "Nothing broken." 

The woman reached out to dry his tears, which brought on a fresh onslaught, having nothing to do with the sting in his fingers. The sobs wracked his small body as she gathered him into her arms and he found himself unable to resist taking a small amount of the comfort she offered. The soothing words she whispered into his ear made his heart ache for his own mother, though he now truly knew that he would never see her again. They came in torrents from the pit of his soul, the tears long held back and denied since the deaths of his parents. 

Exhausted at last, Daniel pulled back from his foster mother, wiping his puffy, red eyes and sniffling as she reached for a tissue. "I'm… sorry," he hiccupped.

"Don't be sorry, Daniel," she whispered, wiping away the moisture on his cheeks. "It's okay to cry when you're hurt or sad. Do you want to talk about anything?"

He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling over his forehead and eyes. "No, Ma'am. I just want to go to bed now," he said tiredly, sliding from the bed to kneel beside it for the bedtime prayers the Jenkins' had taught him to say every night.

"All right. Want me to stay and tuck you in?" she asked, rising to her feet.

He felt the kiss placed on the top of his head, and nodded.

He closed his eyes and clasped his hands. "Now I lay me down to sleep…" he recited from memory. "…and God bless Mr. And Mrs. Jenkins, and Mrs. Peters at the Home, and that teacher I had last year who wasn't even nice… Amen."

"Good night, Daniel," Amy said with a fond smile. "Now, lights out and go to sleep."

As he heard the door close behind him, he closed his eyes again. "God? It's me again. Could you ask my mom and dad if it's okay for me to like Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins?" he added quietly. "Amen."

Turning out the lights, Daniel got a running start from the doorway and leaped onto the bed, not truly believing that there were monsters under it, yet unwilling to take the risk. He pulled the light blanket up to his chin, snuggled down into his pillows and closed his eyes, welcoming the embrace of sleep, and the dreamed the dream of faraway worlds. 

finis


End file.
